


That's Enough For Now

by keep_me_alone



Series: Batfamily Ficlets [11]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Bat Family, Bruce Wayne is a Good Dad, Coffee, Daddy Issues, Family Fluff, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Insomnia, anyways guess whos been drinking a metric fuckton of coffee again, batfam, batfamily, lmao it me, lowkey starved for attention, me and tim tbh, possible child neglect??? we just don't know, this is self indulgent sorry, um I think??? or the worst I dont know anymore tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2019-01-06 04:28:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12203892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keep_me_alone/pseuds/keep_me_alone
Summary: Another Tim has some issues and needs to fucking sleep ficlet, but this one is fluffy instead of angsty. Lots of snark. Tim is a fuckin Teenager lmao





	That's Enough For Now

**Author's Note:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

As soon as Bruce stepped out of the Batmobile, Tim knew he was in trouble. There was no point in trying to sneak upstairs, the Batcomputer was still running hot, and Alfred was in bed eons ago. Tim spun in his chair, looking as innocent as possible as Bruce strode towards him. Of course, this only made him look guilty.

“Timothy Wayne-Drake,” _uh oh._ “You were to be in bed,” Bruce checked the time before pulling his cowl off, “four hours ago.” He was still using his Batman voice. Tim shrugged, pretending he wasn’t mildly terrified.

“I was helping,”

“You were supposed to be sleeping.”

“Crime never sleeps, Bruce.” Tim quipped. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Bruce look so unimpressed, _Christ._

“Are any of your names Crime?” Bruce asked with exaggerated patience.

“Actually, it’s my middle-,”

“No.” Bruce cut him off, gesturing sharply with one hand. Tim shut up immediately. “It’s bedtime,” this was not quite so harsh, but his tone left no room for argument. So, Tim decided to whine.

“I’m not tired,” he complained, kicking off the desk and spinning the chair around. Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose.

“How much coffee did you drink today?” He asked, “and when was your last cup?” Tim cupped his chin, feeling the new growth of greasy stubble that had accompanied his latest growth spurt. He was still spinning.

“Well _technically,_ I’ve only had two cups today, and the last one was half an hour ago.” Bruce took a deep breath.

“I’m not asking how much coffee you’ve had since midnight, _Timothy.”_ Tim shrugged, shoving himself into a faster spin. Just watching him was making Bruce ill.

“I dunno, like six to eight?” Bruce sighed.

“Tim, we talked about this.”

“Yeah but I was tired.”

“Yes, that’s why you’re supposed to _sleep.”_

Bruce, grabbed Tim’s chair as he went to spin some more. Unfortunately, Tim had somehow failed to anticipate this and went tumbling to the ground. He grumbled as Bruce helped him up. Bruce held his wrist for just a moment.

“Do you know how fast your heart is beating right now?” He asked. “Sit.” Tim sat down leaning way back. He considered putting his feet on the Batdesk, but one look at Bruce told him that that wasn’t a great idea just now.

“Like, one twenty something last I checked.” Bruce’s mouth fell open just slightly. That was almost twice Tim’s uncaffeinated (not really usual) resting heartrate.

“I’m going to sedate you,” Bruce told him, heading for the medical unit.  Tim sprang up, grabbing Bruce’s gauntlet and nearly slicing off a few of his fingers.

“I’m good, B.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“What’s the point of trying to get me on less sleeping meds if you just tranq me anytime my insomnia like,” he gestured vaguely, “exists.” Bruce frowned, pulling his arm away.

“That wouldn’t work on Alfred,” he said slowly, making up his mind.

“Lucky for me, Alfred’s asleep,” Tim replied cheerfully. “Anyways if I have a heart attack or like panic attack or whatever, at least it’ll tire me out. Then you win, see it’s good for both of us.” Bruce scowled at him.

“That’s not how anything works and you know it.” Tim shrugged blithely, swinging his feet.

“So boss, what’s the verdict? I have things to do, if you don’t mind.”

“There is _nothing_ you need to do at three A.M., except for sleep.”

“Thanks for the disapproval, I’ll use it in my art. Also like Wayne Enterprises stuff, tracking down criminals, working on the Riddler’s last puzzle,” Tim ticked the items down on his fingers. He noticed, delightedly, that Bruce’s eyebrows were steadily inching up towards his hairline. He continued talking until Bruce tossed him onto his shoulder.

“Right,” he grunted, carrying Tim to the elevator like a sack of potatoes. Tim yelped and wiggled until Bruce threatened to drop him. “Dick got like this sometimes,” he said conversationally, despite having over a hundred pounds of deadweight over his shoulder, “when he was eight.”

“Ouch.”

“You need some attention.”

“I do actually have insomnia, you know.” Tim muttered.

“I’m sure that’s part of it,” Bruce said, careful not to hit Tim’s head off of the elevator walls. “But I’ve been away a lot lately.” He watched the elevator numbers turn red as they climbed to the third floor. “What does one do for a teenager who needs attention?” He mused, “you’re probably too old to read to.” Tim’s face was turning red from being upside down for so long.

“You wanna read me a textbook on music and neuropsychology?” He asked, “because that’s what I’m reading right now.” Bruce gave him an unimpressed look that he couldn’t see.

“We could have a conversation,” Bruce suggested, and if Tim didn’t know better, he’d say that Bruce sounded almost tentative. He laughed.

“That would require you actually talking, B.”

“You can talk?”

“That’s not how this works,” Tim told him, squirming a little. The elevator made a small noise as it stopped. Bruce carried Tim down the hall. He manoeuvred through Tim’s door, tossing him onto the bed without warning. Tim yelped.

“I am going to tell you the Most Boring Story Ever,” Bruce promised him, settling into the chair beside his bed.

And so, he did.


End file.
